Close
by inmyarms57
Summary: She knew that message by heart. He'd say he loved her, needed her and he'd be there by nine but it was standing there in the dark, in that old familiar blue shirt that made her feel close to that voice on the line.
1. Chapter 1

_It makes her feel close  
Makes her smile  
It's like he's with her almost.  
~Rascal Flatts "Close"_

A long delicate finger traced the trail of a melted snow flake down the window pane as she stared outside at the blanketed ground before her. Moonlight danced across the pristine white snow, pulling at her memory causing her lips to curve upward into a gentle smile.

She saw them, laughing in the snow. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as his lips trailed kisses along her long slender neck, his fingers dancing across her slightly exposed skin.

She had clung to him, there in the cold mountain air, letting herself fall just a little more in love with the boy that stole her heart long ago.

His words of love were muffled as he lifted her off the ground and he buried his face in her curls as she whispered those same three little words back. It was real and true and overwhelming and all consuming.

It was there in that moment, with the moonlight shining down that she saw forever in his eyes of blue and it stole her very breathe away and she leaned forward, their foreheads touching and whispered she needed him, wanted him for all eternity with the snow coming down.

He had laughed, laughed until there were tears in his eyes and they were tumbling to the snow covered ground, his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her close with the words _Marry me_ falling from his lips.

She had cried, sobbed really, her hands latching onto his jacket, pulling him closer until their lips were meshed as one. They parted slightly and she softly whispered that one word that made his smile grow and her heart to soar as he tenderly spoke those three words that still made her cry; _I love you._

It was all a memory now and he wasn't there and she was learning to make it on her own. Make it in a world were he didn't exist.

Sighing, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her warm breathe fogging the window and traced a pattern against the window with her finger, watching as it slowly faded, knowing it would return if only she'd breathe.

But breathing had become harder and living without him was something she was still trying to understand.

"Your phone's beeping." A sleepy voice said behind her, pulling her from her thoughts.

Pushing away from the window, she smiled faintly before turning and taking the phone from his out stretched hand with a whispered thanks. Flipping it open, she pressed the voicemail button and lifted it to her ear, her eyes watching the man before her, his own dark eyes watching her closely. She had come to hate that look but over time she had become accustomed to it. She saw it every night.

With a smile she turned away, her eyes closing, listening to the voice that played in her ear, her heart fluttering at its sound. It was familiar. It was home. It was comfort, all the things she once told him she needed and he gave her with the simple promise of forever.

She had memorized that message, knew it by heart but she still smiled at his words like they were new and she was hearing it all for the first time. Her smile grew when she heard him say they miss her. He misses her that _he_ needs her and _he_ loves her. _They_ both love her. Her eyes mist over when he pauses momentarily and lets out a sigh before softly whispering that he's sorry for all sorts of things and they'll be there by nine and they'll sit by the fire and watch the snow fall.

And then there it was that sound, that unmistakable sound of squealing tires, a scream and metal against metal that takes her breath away each time and her eyes flutter shut, a tear slips down and she stands there, waiting for the silence to end and her heart to steady once again.

And it does when that computerized voice fills her head, indicting the end of the message and she pulls the phone from her ear, her finger brushing against the number 7. It would just take one push and he'd be gone and that night would disappear and she could move on, that's what she tells herself every time. But she doesn't and her finger inches to the number 9, saving that message from over two years ago to play it in the dark again tomorrow.

"Why do you save it every time?" He asked, shuffling across the hardwood floors on bare feet, until he was standing before her. His arms folded across his defined chest.

"Because," She whispers, lifting her watery eyes to meet his in the dark. "It makes me feel close to him."

"Honey…"

"I know," She said, her eyes closing when he pulled her to him, his chin resting on her golden head with a sigh. "I should delete it but…"

"You miss him." He finishes. His own eyes closing when he felt her arms slip around him, hugging him close.

It had become a nightly ritual. She slips from their bed, he'd lay there pretending he didn't notice and wait for that familiar sound of her phone beeping, indicting the time. An alarm she set once long ago, to go off at the exact time he had called that night so long ago.

A consist reminder of a night she wouldn't let go of.

A night she wishes she could change.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he pulled back, his hands lifting to her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, "Come back to bed."

A sigh escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering shut as she bowed her head, her arms falling from around his waist, "You go," She whispered softly, lifting her head, her eyes opening and meeting his. "I'll be there soon."

"It's late," He drawled out, his own hands falling from her shoulder and took a step back. "And you haven't…"

That's when he noticed that old faded blue shirt she wore. Her fingers gripping the hem and he could see her standing beside another, hands clinging to blue and sighed.

He had found it once, buried deep in her closest, when he was making room for his things. She had said she would do it but she kept putting it off and he had grown tired of living out of boxes, so he moved those old boxes of hers, stacking them on-top of each other until one fell over, scattering it's contents across the floor.

Cursing under his breath, he knelt on the ground picking up each item, careful not to ruin those old memories she had packed away. There were forgotten sketches done in high school of a boy and girl, yearning for something neither understood. He had seen them once, long ago and he knew he'd never have her heart. Not the way he wanted it, so he let her go. But that was long ago and now she was his and he loved her. He gathered the stack of sketches together before carefully slipping them into the box, his dark eyes catching sight of three girls dressed in an old familiar cheerleader uniform, captured in a photograph.

Picking up the stack of photos, he brushed his finger across her smiling face, her arms tossed around two smiling brunettes as confetti fell down around them, the state championship. With a shake of his head, he flipped through the stack, stopping when one of her kissing another, fluttered to the ground and those words she had whispered once, in the dark, about another, long ago echoed in his mind.

With a sigh, he picked up that picture, staring at the couple that once seemed destine forever only for life to turn its ugly head and yank it all away. He had heard, back then, she had finally gotten her chance at happiness and he had been truly happy for her but staring at that picture, he wondered just how different it would be if he had never let her go.

Shaking his head of those _what ifs_, he tossed the pictures into the box and reached for the rest of the fallen items, his hands stilling when he lifted that old familiar shirt off the ground. He sat there, holding that folded blue material in his hands, staring at the worn out white letters across the front. He knew what it was. He had one himself packed away in a box full of old memories.

He had seen pictures of the blonde haired man wearing it, scattered around the house. Each different, moments captured forever. But it was the ones sitting on her bedside table that played in his mind as he sat there holding that old shirt; a smiling blue eyed blonde man, holding a smiling green eyed girl in his arms, while she clung to his arm. Her own gaze looking up at the pair beside her, her eyes full of life and he knew they held love.

And there she stood now, wearing that shirt and listening to _his_ voice.

Running a hand through his dark hair he let out a sigh as he lowered himself down upon the couch, his dark eyes watching her, "You're wearing his shirt."

"Jake…" She drawled out taking a hesitant step forward, her actions stilling as he dropped his head with sigh.

"You're never going to let him go, are you?" He asked, lifting his head once again, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I loved him." She whispered, her arms wrapping around her waist as she stared at the man before her. "I still love him."

She never intended to lead him but he had reappeared in her life when she needed someone the most. Needed someone to hold on to when everything was slipping away and he was there and she missed another. "Jake, he's…I don't…"

"I know," He said, standing from the couch, his voice low, watching her as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She was broken, shattered and he wanted to fix her.

To be that man she needed but he wasn't and she was broken.

Sighing, Jake stepped forward, reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing her tears away, "He's Lucas and your Peyton."


	2. Chapter 2

_Help me remember_  
_The way that we used to be_  
_When nothin' else mattered  
~_Rascal Flatts_ "Help Me Remember"_

"It's late," he whispered, "but if you're up for it, we could go out for a drink and forget about life for awhile and just reminisce." A grin formed on his lips; a smile that she assumed woman found infectious, charming that she couldn't help but smile back.

Shaking her head, she tilted her and stared at him, "I don't think that's a good idea," She whispered, averting her eyes away from his intense gaze and to the shimmer water of the pool that lay before them. "Besides with the way I'm feeling, I just might pick a fight with the first person I saw. Either that or I'd drown myself in alcohol and seduce the first guy who hit on me."

He laughed, "I'm up for a good girl fight and besides," he said, bumping his shoulder against hers, his eyes bright with mirth, "I _really _wouldn't mind being the man you seduced either."

Her gaze shot to his face, a golden brow arched in surprise, "What?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he winked, causing her to laugh and blush at the sudden realization that he was flirting with her. "Now I know how you got your nickname," A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and much to her surprise, a giggle tumbled out. "You're incorrigible," She said shaking her head, her smile widening. "Thank you, Skills."

"What can I say," He said, tugging at his shirt with a smirk, "its how I roll. Besides," He took a step closer, his hand reaching out and brushing the silent tears from her face. "You've always had a beautiful smile, a memorable laugh," He whispered softly, his shoulder lifting in a shrug, "Sweet. Pure."

He held her gaze before stepping back and dropping his hand and trusting it into the pocket of his jacket. "I hope that this doesn't keep you from laughing tomorrow, Skinny Girl. Or the day after either. You deserve more then a life of forgotten memories and I'd hate to think that, that's all he left you with."

In other words, don't let it consume her. Don't let her grief, the sadness win.

"What am I supposed to do, Skills? How do I move on? How do I let him go when he's still here? When he's still everything?"

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back, fighting the urge to cry and not wanting to see the pity return to Skills eyes. She was tired of _that_ look. It's all she had been seeing in her friends eyes since that night when her entire world changed.

Moving to turn away, he stopped her with a hand on her arm and gently pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her, giving her the comfort she'd been seeking but wouldn't allow herself to feel.

"You get up in the morning," He whispered softly, his words soothing as a strangled sob escaped her parted lips. His arms tightening around her waist holding her up. "You hold your head high and live your life 'cause that's what he would have wanted. You live your life Peyton and you tell your daughter that her Daddy loves her, even if he doesn't remember and you do it without regrets. Without looking back and wondering how you could change it all. You just live."

"Is that what you did?" She asked, returning his hug. She felt him stiffen, his back tensing beneath her touch and she wondered if he would answer. But when he did, she could hear the pain echoing in his voice.

"No," He answered, his tone low, nearly inaudible. "I did what you want to do. I drank it away and pretended it didn't happen because it was easier than acknowledge it did. But I'm learning to live with the mistake I made that night and maybe," his grip loosening, his hands sliding to her waist as he pulled back, meeting her watery gaze, "maybe it's time you did that. Let go. A little at a time."

How did she do that, let Lucas go? He had, no _was_ still everything. He was her life, so how could she let him go, when she couldn't remember who she was without him.

"I don't think I can. I don't remember a world without him in it. He's everything, Skills and I don't know how _not_ to love him.""I know," He said, a sigh escaping his lips, his arms tightening around her slender waist once again. "But it's been two years and he doesn't remember and you moved…"

Shaking her head, Peyton stepped out of his embrace, roughly wiping away the tears from her eyes, "It's late," she mumbled, her arms wrapping around her waist, her eyes darting from his to the pool and back. "Thanks for bringing Sawyer home."

"Peyton, I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"I'll see you around Skills." With a smile, she turned and slowly made her way back into the house, the clicking of the door closing behind her, filling the night air.

* * *

"If you stare at it long enough, it just might come to life."

Looking up from the drink she had been nursing since she convinced Brooke to watch Sawyer and she escaped to Tric, she smiled faintly into the eyes of the man before me. His eyes light with laughter and a smile that once (still) made her melt but that was years ago and they were epic and in love and now?

Now she's learning that smile doesn't do anything anymore and they weren't epic.

At least she'd like to pretend it weren't and that smile didn't have her wishing for that night back.

"Cat got your tongue?" He said pulling out the stool beside her with that smirk she had loved and his eyes squinted in just the way that her believing they were still the same and life hadn't yanked the rug out from under them.

Shaking her head, she glanced down at the dark liquid swishing around the glass before her, one thought running through her head as the liquid splashed over the edge and landed on the once pristine napkin, _her life was dark and spinning out of control_, lifting her gaze, she tilted her head and smiled into his eyes and knowing he'd see right through her.

Even if he didn't remember.

"There it is again, that smile but no words."

"Since when were you ever this persistent?" She voice barely a whisper above the noise of the crowded club.

With a cocky smile, he leaned in and softly spoke. "Only with the pretty girls."

Laughing, she leaned back, her hair brushing against her bare shoulders in waves "Is that your pick up line? Cause if it is, it's really bad."

Placing his hands over his heart, a look of hurt on his face, his voice full of amusement and for a moment she wanted to pretend they were still in high school and they were fighting those emotions they just didn't understand. At least not like they did once. "Are you saying my winning lines aren't working on you?"

"I'm saying you need new ones." For the first time in days, months, she felt herself letting go and forgetting the pain.

Forgetting that he didn't remember and that night never happened and this was just another night after a long day and they were in love and the last two years hadn't happened.

"Well I guess I'll just have to come up with new ones, won't I pretty girl?"

Like a knife to the heart, there it was; reality and the fact that he wasn't the same and he didn't remember.

And she wasn't playing this game anymore.

She _couldn't_ play this game anymore.

His smiled faltered slightly, his eyes shimmering with concern at her lack of response.

"Where's your come back. We were just…" His voice faded, his blue eyes sparkling with such intensity that she almost wanted to forget the promise she made herself; _she wouldn't let herself loose herself in memories only she remembered._

Not again.

Slipping from the bar stool, she shook her head and tossed money on the bar before walking away, a whispered apologize on her lips.

"Hey, wait Peyton I…"

Yanking her car keys from her back pocket, she pushed her way through the crowd and out the door, needing to escape the confines of the large club that suddenly seemed too small to breathe in.

They had done this before. He found her one night, sitting in that very spot, with tears in her eyes. He sat beside her, not saying a word and for a moment she let herself believe he remembered what that day was and what it meant but when she met his gaze, she saw the truth; he didn't remember.

And she wanted to forget. So she drank and flirted and pretended she didn't carry memories of what they were and how he was everything.

She drank until she forgot and he pressed his lips to hers and she lead him to her office and he laid her down on that old pool table and she let herself forget he didn't remember.

Even if it was just for one night, she let herself believe they were still the same.

But she wouldn't, _couldn't_, do that again. Not when she was the only one who remembered.

Her pace quicken as she feet hit the pavement, ignoring the sound of her name being called, she fumbled with keys in her hands and cursing as they slipped through her shaking fingers and fall to the ground with an echo across the darken parking lot.

"Great," she mumbled as she dropped to her knees, searching for the keys only to freeze at the sound of his voice in her ear.

"Looking for these?"

Whipping her head around, she slowly stood, her gaze locked on his and for a moment she thought of another time, another place when he had stood before her, keys dangling from his hand with that same look. Like he had a secret and he loved her.

But he didn't and she was just another woman in his life.

Closing her eyes, she sighed before opening them again with the a nod and reaching for her keys in his hands only to have him yank them out of reach, "Give them to me.

With a smirk, he leaned in closely, his warm breath causing her to shiver as it blew across her skin, "Not until you tell me what's wrong, Wily."

"Luke." She drawled out, her eyes fluttering shut at the mention of her nickname. A name he had given her years ago.

A name she wondered if he knew just what it meant.

"Just tell me."

Letting out a sigh, she slowly backed up until she felt the cool metal of her car against her back. Her eyes still closed, willing him to disappear and the ache that was building deep within would consume her whole, "You're stubborn."

"Maybe so," He whispered softly, the tips of his fingers gently brushing against her cheek, "but you're crying."

Her eyes fluttered open at his touch, a gasp escaping her lips at how close he had gotten. His blue eyes full of concern, worry and a look of familiarity that had her heart clenching and hoping he remembered but then he smiled and that look faded and tears stung her eyes.

Pressing her hands against his chest, she pushed him away, her hand held out, "Please give me my keys, Luke. I need to get home to my daughter."

She held his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched his jaw twitch at the mention of their daughter. She had seen it before, that look that flickered through his eyes, like he remembered something but then she'd blink and it was gone and she was staring at a man she didn't know.

"Please?" She pleaded, her voice shaking with emotion she didn't want to show. At least to him.

"Peyton," His voice low, barely a whisper as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out and gripping her elbow. "What's wrong? We were having fun and I thought…"

Letting out a laugh, she yanked her arm free from his grasp and yanked the keys from hand, "You thought wrong." She said, her voice breaking as she unlocked the car door and slide into the driver seat only to have Lucas grab the door as she tried to close it.

With a sigh, she tilted her head and meant his gaze, "Please, Luke? Move."

"Stay. Have a drink with me. Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can fix…" he said moving slightly and allowing her to close the door between them with a click. "Peyton, come on."

Shaking her head, she let the tears she had been holding back, fall. "You can't fix this." She whispered as she slowly backed out of the parking space, her eyes locked on his. "Not this time."


End file.
